


Dope Ass Motherfucking Baked Good

by romulusgloriosus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: "Fluff", F/M, Strong Language, The Homestuck Epilogues: Candy, breast milk fetish mention, extremely filthy language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22728202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romulusgloriosus/pseuds/romulusgloriosus
Summary: The most powerful woman in the world deserves a happy Valentine's Day. Her paramour provides.
Relationships: Jane Crocker/Gamzee Makara
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Dope Ass Motherfucking Baked Good

Jane Crocker, the woman who owns the world, sits at her desk in the penthouse office of Crocker Tower in New Crockerton. She’s dressed in an impeccably tailored and ironed red suit, with new and polished black and red glasses. Her make-up is pristine, her hair is shining, and not a single red-painted nail on her finger is the tiniest bit scratched. She smells of vanilla and cocoa butter, as if the desserts Jane shares with the world are baked into her very skin. She is, in a word, perfect. Any mere mortal who would look upon her would know her as their goddess and steward of all of creation. She knows this, and she loves it.

That being said, most of Jane’s day goes into being perfectly _bored_. When the subject of Earth C economics is broached, people instantly assume the most ingratiating posture of surrender imaginable. But suffice it to say, it is long, it is complicated, and it is completely unnecessary. Alchemy makes it so that everyone has whatever they need, and money is more or less pointless, so running a business essentially amounts to looking at graphs fall and rise based on tasty treats spontaneously appearing into existence and people using their infinite money to purchase them, which in turn adds to Jane’s infinite coffers, which she uses to pay her own workers an infinite paycheck. It’s all very droll.

Jane has spent the better part of a decade trying to reintroduce scarcity to a post-scarcity economy, if _only_ to make her days a little more interesting. Aside from that, she genuinely believes it’s for the best for Earth C. What is Life without challenge? Without the thrill of the hunt and the risk of a winter’s famine? The people of Earth C don’t truly know how to live, and it is Jane’s duty as the loving mother of the universe to provide that meaning to her progeny.

It’s taking a while, though. The other Gods aren’t exactly making it easy for her.

In twenty minutes she has a video call with the assistant vice chairperson of her subsidiary, Crocker-Cola, regarding stock prices. She can already predict that the prices are going up, because they’re always going up. The thrill was lost on her a long time ago. She sighs. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Her phone buzzes.

“Madam Crocker?”

JANE: Yes, what is it?

“It’s the High Priest Makara, ma’am. He’s here to see you.”

Strange. Her clown only comes when called. It’s part of the arrangement that she’s made with the repulsive jester, and there has never once been a disruption in that understanding in the years of their relationship. He is awful, but he is obedient. What could he possibly want with her? He had better not be expecting any kind of _favors_ from her. Jane only gives anything when she wants something in return, and she wasn’t in the mood for any _clownery._

Then again. She was bored. Very bored. What better entertainment than her committed harlequin? She smirks.

JANE: You can send him up.

A few moments pass, and the door to her lavish salon creaks ajar. Jane looks over from her computer screen, but there’s no one there.

JANE: Gamzee?

No response.

_honk._

Jane’s head turns swiftly to the left. At least, that’s where it sounded like it was coming from.

_HONK._

Jane’s head turns a full 180 degrees to the right.

JANE: What game is this, clown? Are you threatening me? You know that I am more than a match for your buffooner-

HoNk. :o)

Gamzee is standing right next to her dressed in a three piece suit with a purple polkadot bowtie. His clown make-up is fresh and even, and he smells of talcum powder. He holds in his hand a rich bouquet of flowers.

GAMZEE: FoR yOu, My BiG tItTiEd TuLiP. :o)

Jane looks at the flowers with her mouth hanging slightly ajar. She allows herself the moment of indecency, as she often does around Gamzee.

JANE: None of these flowers are tulips, clown.  
GAMZEE: Aw, Im SoRrY. i DoNt KnOw A mOtHeRfUcKiNg ThInG aBoUt YoUr EaRtH hOrTiCuLtUrE. aInT a ThInG i EvEr ThOuGhT iD bE sPeNdInG aNy MoThErFuCkInG tImE oN iN aNy Of My DaYs. BuT i AlL hEaRd ThAt A tUlIp WaS a PrEtTy FlOwEr, AnD tHaTs AbOuT tHe BeSt MoThErFuCkInG wAy To DeScRiBe My BeSt BiTcH, sO tHaTs WhY i AlL uP aNd SaId It.

Jane’s skin warms and she feels her stomach drop. It’s not a bad feeling, per se, but it’s new. Abnormal. Unlike anything she’s ever felt before, least of all around him. Well, that’s not entirely true. There are times when he holds her after they’ve done their dirty deeds, placid smile plastered on his face, where she runs her fingers through his fuzzy, moth-like hair and feels something akin to how she’s feeling now. It’s never been this strong, though. She doesn’t quite know what to call it. All she knows is that her face is burning red.

JANE: Thank you, Gamzee. Why are you giving these to me?  
GAMZEE: Do I nEeD a MoThErFuCkInG rEaSoN tO tReAt YoU rIgHt? DoNt YoU kNoW yOuRe My MoThErFuCkInG wOrLd, BoO bOo?  
JANE: I....  
GAMZEE: PlUs I bEeN tOlD tHaT tHiS iS fLuShEd AfFiRmAtIoN dAy FoR tHe HuMaNs, WhEn YaLl TeLl YoUr MaTeSpRiT tHaT tHeY bE a MoThErFuCkInG rEaL oNe AnD gIvE tHeM pReSeNtS aNd ShIt. AiN’t ThAt TrUe? Or Is ThAt AlL a MoThErFuCkInG LIE FoLkS dOnE gOnE aNd ToLd PoOr GaMzEe. :O(  
JANE: Flushed Affirmation Day? I’ve never –

Jane looks over at her clock calendar. It’s February 14th. Valentine’s Day.

Jane nearly faints. Gamzee quickly catches her in his disturbingly strong arms.

GAMZEE: YoU oK mY bOoTiLiCiOuS bAbE?  
JANE: I...I had no idea that you felt this way about me, Gamzee.  
GAMZEE: WhAt AlL kInD oF wAy ArE yOu SaYiNg?  
JANE: Well, like....  
GAMZEE: YoU aLrEaDy KnOw ThAt I bE cRaZy AbOuT yOu, GiRl. WhAt OtHeR wAyS cAn A tRoLl Be BuT tHaT?

Jane’s eyes narrow. She takes a deep breath and composes herself.

JANE: This is about the milk, isn’t it?  
GAMZEE: WeLl I wAsNt GoInG tO aLl OuT aNd SaY iT, bUt YeAh My StAsH hAs BeEn GeTtInG mOtHeRfUcKiNg LoW lAtElY, aNd SeEiNg As I bRoUgHt YoU sOmE mOtHeRfUcKiNg FlOwErS aNd AlL aNd SaId AlL tHe PrEtTy WoRdS i WaS hOpInG yOu MiGhT bRiNg OuT tHoSe HoNkInG bOoBiEs AnD aLl PoUr Me A tAsTy GlAsS rIgHt On HeRe AnD nOw, YoU kNoW?

Jane makes a fist. Her face is still hot, but it’s not because of whatever that silly, girlish feeling was but moments prior. She’s ready to deck this nasty clown right in the squeeze horn. Gamzee’s face remains peaceful, either unaware of Jane’s rage or relishing in it. Knowing him, it was definitely the latter. As good as punching him would feel, she knew it was exactly what he wanted, and so she once again takes a deep breath.

JANE: Fine. I will give you your precious milk, Fool -  
GAMZEE: FuCk YeAh NoW tHaTs WhAtS mOtHeRfUcKiNg Up! MaYbE y’AlL sPeCiAl BoY mIgHt GeT a TaStE rIgHt FrOm ThE sOuRcE?  
JANE: IF,  
GAMZEE: :o(  
JANE: You do something for me.  
GAMZEE: JuSt SaY tHe MoThErFuCkInG wOrD!  
JANE: I want you to spend the afternoon with me. I’m bored. It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? And for better or for worse, you are the more interesting of my lovers. It’s certainly not a high bar, hoo hoo hoo! Why not enjoy the afternoon? I’ll cancel my meetings with such and such and perhaps we might...bake a pie?

A smile spreads across Gamzee’s face. Jane feels more threatened by this look than any she’s ever seen on him before. Unlike all of his other various words and expressions, this one looks almost genuine. It’s perhaps the only time she’s ever seen what might be called the “real” Gamzee. She doesn’t know what to make of this.

GAMZEE: ThAt SoUnDs LiKe ThE mOtHeRfUcKiNg BiTcHtItS, pUsSy PiE.

Jane smiles back.

JANE: I’m glad to hear it.

\--

The two step into the Crocker Kitchen – the heart of Jane’s Empire. In about four hours, she would normally be shooting her show, _The Crocker Kitchen with Jane and Jake_ , with her husband, TV’s Jake Crocker. Not tonight. Tonight would be a rerun. Let the mortals figure out something for themselves for once. Tonight is for her and her nasty clown.

Gamzee helpfully pre-heats the oven and starts assembling the necessary dishes. She’s always been impressed with his baking techniques. To her understanding, based on old conversations with a certain troll who would no longer be named due to his _ongoing rebellion_ against humanity itself, Gamzee had a nasty habit back on Alternia that involved baking. Nowadays he mostly just bakes fruit pies. “we aint never had anything like motherfucking this back on alternia,” he would say, “the only pies we had were motherfucking grubpie or slimepie, and grubpie just ain’t my thing. this shit’s motherfucking tight.”

The clown is already whisking together the flour, sugar, and salt. As he goes about making the dough, Jane goes about making the filling. She pours lemon juice into a bowl and begins to peel and core the apples. She looks over at Gamzee and can’t help but smile when sees how utterly delighted he is as his long, spindly fingers work the dough.

JANE: Tell me something, Gamzee.  
GAMZEE: WhAtS tHaT?  
JANE: Why did you do it?  
GAMZEE: WhY dId I mOtHeRfUcKiNg Do WhAt?  
JANE: Why did you “turn evil”? Kill your friends? Serve Callie’s brother?  
GAMZEE: I aInT nEvEr AcTuAlLy Up AnD mEt OuR gReEn SiStEr’S fUnKy OlD bRoThEr. ThAt MuSt HaVe BeEn AnOtHeR gAmZeE iN aNoThEr LiFe I aInT nEvEr LiVeD, aNd ThAnK mY sTaRs EvErY mOtHeRfUcKiNg DaY aInT mE. aS fOr WhY i GoNe DoNe AnD kIlLeD kItTy BiTcH aNd My BoY eQuIuS, iTs AlL bEcAuSe It NeEdEd To HaPpEn, YoU kNoW wHaT iM sAyInG?

Jane raises an eyebrow as she tosses peeled apple slices into the lemon juice.

JANE: No?  
GAMZEE: ItS lIkE tHiS mY bOoBiLiCiOuS hO. eVeRyThInG wE aLl DiD iN tHaT oThEr PlAcE wAs PrEoRdAiNeD bY tHe MeSsIaHs. I wAs AlL gOnNa BeCoMe ThE gOd Of DoUbLe DeAtH tRaPpEd In A sPoOkY pUpPeT oNe WaYs Or AnOtHeR, oR eLsE wE wAs AlL gOnNa DiE. nO tWo WaYs AbOuT iT, sUgArPuSs. AnD tHe MeSsIaHs DeMaNdEd ThAt GoOd OlD eQuIuS bE a SaCrIfIcE tO cOmE aNd Be OnE wItH tHe AbSoLuTiOn Of AlL, sO i AlL hAd To KiLl HiM. aNd KiTtY bItCh? I aInT nEvEr WaNtEd To KiLl HeR, bUt ShE aLl WaNtEd To KiLl Me, AnD hElL, sOmEtHiNg CaMe OuT oF tHaT tOo, I tHiNk. EvErYtHiNg We DiD sErVeD a PuRpOsE. iT hAd To MoThErFuCkInG hApPeN.

Jane thinks she understands. It’s justifiable in the same way that her enforced segregation of the races of Earth C and reintroduction of scarcity are justiable. They need to happen in order to sow the seeds of conflict, because conflict is necessary for existence. They are like wildfires that scorches the forest and leaves ashes for the new seeds to grow. 

The idea makes her face hot again. She puts the lemony apples on a skillet and begins to cook them with butter.

JANE: And what about now?  
GAMZEE: WhAt AbOuT nOw, My SwEeT mAmAcItA?  
JANE: You said that everything we did in the game was preordained by...“the messiahs.” What about now? Here? What’s changed?  
GAMZEE: EvErYtHiNgS cHaNgEd, BoO. eVeRy MoThErFuCkInG tHiNg.  
JANE: How so?

Gamzee cuts the dough in half and begins rolling them into discs.

GAMZEE: We FrEe NoW iS mOtHeRfUcKiNg WhAt. AiNt NoThInG pReOrDaInEd In ThIs PlAcE. tHe MeSsIaHs AiNt GoT sHiT hErE. tHaTs WhY i GeT tO bE mOtHeRfUcKiNg ReDeEmEd, My BiG bOoBiEd BeAuTy. I gEt To MaKe DeCiSiOnS fOr My OwN dAmN sElF, aNd ThAt MeAnS i AlL gEt To Do WhAt I wAnT, cOoK wHaT i WaNt, FUCK WhO i WaNt....  
GAMZEE: or motherfucking kill who i want, if it motherfucking comes to that.  
GAMZEE: HONK.

Jane smirks. She strains the cooked apples in a collander to catch the juice.

JANE: And who is it that you would want to kill? Karkat Vantas?  
GAMZEE: Oh My DoPe AsS iNvErTeBrOtHeR? hElL mOtHeRfUcKiNg No. I lOvE tHaT sOn Of A hO-tItTiEd BiTcH. sOrRy, I kNoWs Y’aLlS hAtE eAcH oThEr ThEsE dAyS bUt ItS sTiLl My HoPe In My PeAcEfUl PuRpLe HeArT tHaT y’AlL mIgHt FiNd It In Y’aLlS oWn HeArTs To FoRgIvE oNe AnOtHeR sOmEdAy.

Jane returns the juice to the skillet to thicken and caramelize. She’s frowning now.

JANE: are you thinking of betraying me, clown?  
GAMZEE: NaH, bOo. AlL iM sAyInG iS tHaT iM tHe MaStEr Of My OwN dEsTiNy NoW, sO iM gOnNa Do WhAt I mOtHeRfUcKiNg WaNt. I aInT gOtTa KiLl NoBoDy, BuT iF i Do, ItS gOnNa Be BeCaUsE i WaNtEd To Do It. I aInT gOtTa Be AnY dAmN tHiNg UnLeSs ThAtS wHaT i WaNt To Do. ThAtS tHe MeAnInG oF rEdEmPtIoN. tO gO fRoM dOiNg WhAt YoU gOtTa Do To SuRvIvE, tO dOiNg WhAt Y’aLl KnOw Is RiGhT. aNd ThIs?

Gamzee motions to his layered dough on the baking sheet.

GAMZEE: ThIs Is WhErE i WaNt To MoThErFuCkInG bE rIgHt NoW. wItH mY nAnNa MuFfIn, AnD a DoPe AsS mOtHeRfUcKiNg BaKeD gOoD.

Jane sets the filling aside to cool as Gamzee puts the dough in the fridge. She leans over the central island, her body pushing against the rim, as she puts her chin in her hand and studies the clown who is leaning against the nearby kitchen counter while waiting for the next step in the baking process.

JANE: Come here, clown.

He obediently approaches her. She thinks on the words he’s said, and how he never does anything he doesn’t want to anymore. Suddenly that feeling in her stomach from earlier returns. He wants to be here. He wants to do what she asks. He wants this.

He wants her.

She gently places her arms around his shoulders and pulls him in for a soft kiss.

JANE: Thank you, Gamzee.  
GAMZEE: ItS aLl GoOd, WoMaN! aNyThInG fOr ThAt DELICIOUS mOtHeRfUcKiNg HuMaN mOo JuIcE yOu Be AlL mOtHeRfUcKiNg PrOvIdInG mE oN tHe ReGuLaR!

Jane shakes her head. She knows in her heart that she’ll never get what she _really_ wants from Gamzee, or Jake, or anyone, but here, in this moment, it’s enough. She’s happy here. She wants this.

She wants him too.


End file.
